Afton Family Portrait Novels & Stories

Fletcher and Carson both moved quickly to invite Caitlin out of the cart. And just like that, Caitlin openly followed the old master into the Jonathan family’s grand hall. Inside, many members of the family had already gathered. Fletcher’s wife Blythe, their daughter Harper, Matthew and his wife with their twin daughters, Hector’s third daughter Fallon, fourth daughter Liliana, and youngest son Israel. The whole family sat neatly in the hall, eyes turning to the entrance where Caitlin stepped in. Nicoletta stood to help the old man into the main seat, then sat beside him. She turned her gaze on Caitlin.

I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. She paused, then smiled knowingly. “The Ashford lineage traces back to Domburton, their roots are very old and prestigious. Your grandparents, the original Ashfords, are still alive. You’ll meet them tonight. They host these assembly parties regularly to ensure the family remains united. Five children, all boys—imagine the competition among them!” I blinked, absorbing every detail. “And Edward is the eldest?”

Suddenly, Alfred laughed out loud, "That brat's eyes are really good!" Ellena released her clenched fists. Her palms were wet. She was not as calm as she looked on the surface. She was also afraid in her heart. Alfred was different from Jayden. He was a person who had seen great scenes and experienced great storms. When he was young, he dominated the business world. Now that he was old, even if he retired, his aura did not decrease. This might be the special thing about the Arnoult family. They had wealth and status that others could not compare to. Naturally, their confidence and aura were greater than ordinary people.

"Can I keep it?" Charlotte chuckled. "We’ll ask Daddy first." Just then, her fingers brushed against something smooth, an old leather album tucked beneath a stack of old documents. Curiously, she pulled it out and dusted off the cover. The edges were worn, the pages slightly yellowed from time. Flipping it open, she saw photographs of the Harrington family from years ago. There was Astor as a young boy, standing stiffly beside his father, looking serious even as a child. She smiled at the sight but froze when she turned to the next page.

They reflected the lights like tiny mirrors. Henrik and Lucy stood back, making sure they didn't interrupt. They waited for me while I took it all in. Maybe not all yet. I turned my eyes and it landed on a massive photo on the wall, a family portrait. The man with broadshoulders and kind eyes, the woman in pearls and a little girl between them, about six or seven years of age. That was my father, mother and me. I pressed my hand on my chest. Henrik noticed. "I will have my children come join Lucy in cleaning the house for you. They'll be glad to help. Good, hardworking children."

"Andreas is the only one who doesn't give me a hard time, but he's not exactly Mr. Talkative." Well, Amarinth had already made it clear last night that she couldn't stand Ashton’s guts and I was about to ask her more, to delve deeper into their complex family dynamics, but we had reached the garden, and our attention shifted to the scene before us. Every member of the family was already outside, with Alfred and Margaret sitting under a large canopy, Sansa and Amarinth on either side of them, while other people, who I assumed were the staff by their uniforms hurried to and fro.

The door stood slightly ajar, just as it had in Lydia’s photograph, and a faint light seeped through the crack. He motioned for Emma to stay behind him as he pushed the door open. Inside, the room was exactly as it had been in the photograph. Shelves lined the walls, filled with dusty books and scattered trinkets. A large desk sat in the center, its surface cluttered with papers and an open journal. But what drew Elliot’s attention was the large portrait hanging above the fireplace. It was a painting of a man he didn’t recognize, his sharp features and piercing eyes framed by a dark suit. The Ashworth family crest was visible on a ring on his finger, the same ring Elliot had seen in the phot

He then stood up and extended his hand to tightly hold Beatrice's. "I still have a lot to settle with Beatrice," Sam said with a faint smile as he looked at her. "Thank you for the interruption, sir." "You can see it for yourself," Alfred said, taking out a photo that he never left from his pocket. It was a photo of his family that sometimes made him feel sorrowful. The photo where his child, son-in-law, and still a baby granddaughter was neatly stored in his suit pocket. "Take a good look, Sam, if you're really good at analyzing someone's face."

Viktor asks as he joins me in the living room. I nod. “It’s… wow,” Is all I could get out, and he chuckles as he walks further into the room. He comes to a stop in front of an intricate fireplace and looks up; this is when I notice the colossal family portrait above it. There were two adults with five young boys; the man was large and imposing, jet back shoulder-length hair and fierce dark brown eyes; three of the boys matched his appearance.

After cautiously checking for booby traps, I took it and set it on the nearest counter to open it. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the photos. Some of them were poor quality from many years ago and I needed to take a closer look but they were mostly pictures of the Arciero family. There was a myriad with Curtis and Crystal—Jeez, she was a goddess when she was younger. There were a few with Fergus too and while he was an asshole, I had to admit he was good-looking. It wasn’t a surprise when his sons, who had taken after him, looked like supermodels.